


we are too young to hurt this much

by NoStringsOnMe



Series: instax [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Canon Universe, Character Death, Death Eater Attack, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoStringsOnMe/pseuds/NoStringsOnMe
Summary: Malfoy turned from her now to her sister. Petunia’s eyes were glazed, streaming unending tears, and her mouth slack. It was as if she had been transported back to girlhood. Gone were the hard lines of her face. Like curtains parting, Lily saw her sister as she once was: wide eyed, curious, and innocent; before Hogwarts, before magic.“Now, what shall we do with you, my dear? Shall we show Lily darling what happens when people like her take what isn’t theirs?” His voice was soft and persuasive. He spoke as if to a close confidant. Withdrawing his wand from his robe sleeve, he turned it on Petunia. “What do you think, Miss Evans? Shall we have a quick show and tell?”|| When Death Eaters attack her family, Lily must try to protect them at all costs. If only it was that easy. But at least James Potter is there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley & Lily Evans Potter
Series: instax [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693111
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	we are too young to hurt this much

**June 1977**

Petunia was getting married this summer and the thought filled Lily with dread. Her soon to be brother-in-law was a boorish, thoroughly unpleasant man and Lily simply could not see what her sister saw in him. After the disastrous meeting that Easter where she had implored James to pretend to be her boyfriend so she didn’t have to meet them on her own, she had had very little contact with Vernon Dursley and she hoped to keep it that way. He had already left by the time she reached the church that afternoon and for that she was thankful.

She and Petunia were ensconced in the back room of the church while their parents discussed the details of the wedding with the priest. Her sister was fiddling with the sample bouquet she had received from the florist that morning.

“Hyacinth and petunias,” noted Lily, unable to keep the note of sadness from infiltrating her voice. “For you and mum, right? It’s very pretty. It’ll bring out your eyes.”

“Yes, well, lily pollen would just get everywhere. Ruin the dress,” sniffed her sister, turning the small bouquet over in her hands.

“I’m not trying to start anything Tuney,” she murmured. She was tired of having the same fight.

They fell into silence again. It was taut and Lily wished she could reach out and... what? Take her sister’s hand? Embrace her? Express any kind of fondness without being shot down? All of the above? She sighed. Why did everything have to be so hard?

Out in the corridor, Lily became aware of raised voices and several loud bangs. The girls exchanged a confused, concerned look. What on earth-?

CRACK!

The door splintered in two. A broad man with the head the size of a small boulder shouldered his way through. When he caught sight of Lily and Petunia a crude grin broke across his cratered face.

“Oi! Found em!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Sensing danger, Lily's wand was in her hand and firing off spells before she had time to think. The man laughed and deflected them easily. Screams tore through the building. Then there was laughter. Cruel, cackling laughter. Bang after bang shook the church. The glass rattled in its panes.

“Stay behind me, Petunia,” cried Lily, bracing herself, arm outstretched.

Petunia screamed.

She dove in front of her sister, blocking a spell with a flick of her wand. The man paused, narrowing his beady eyes. Blood roared in her ears. Her body was coiled, ready to react.

_ Stupefy! _

It glanced off the man’s ward.

A blast of light. The girl sliced her wand through the air and the spells collided. A deafening crash. She staggered. The smell of incense in her nose. The priest’s cabinets had blown apart. Flower petals and splinters were strewn around the room.

Breathing hard, Lily steadied herself. Petunia whimpered behind her. The man bore down on the two girls, advancing into the room. Gripping her wand tighter, she gulped and planted herself firmly in front of her sister.

The man advanced further, a swagger to his walk. He held his wand loosely by his side.

Lily took her chance. She shot every single jinx, hex, and curse she knew towards him but he was impervious. He flicked them away, a lazy grin on his face. 

“ _Crucio_ ,” he murmured, as if to a lover.

A blinding flash of red.

Pain. Blinding, searing pain cut through Lily. Fire and poison in her veins. Her legs gave way and the ground rushed up to meet her. She saw stars. Somewhere, someone was screaming a terrible blood curdling scream. Yet through her writhing agony, she realised it came from her own mouth. Petunia shrieked her name but she was so far away. Just as she thought she was about to burst, the pain cleared.

It was like the clouds clearing to blue sky after a storm, like splashing cool water over your face on a hot day.

She raked in breaths, chest heaving. Hands clawed at the ground, trying to push her back to her feet but she was spent. The man’s heavy boots appeared in front of her.

Crack.

His boot connected with her ribs. A strangled cry leapt from her mouth as all the air whooshed out from her lungs.

A grim chuckle and the man crouched down next to her. Up close, Lily could see the hard glint to his hazel eyes. They were flat and held no golden warmth. His teeth were crooked and a thin scar ran down the left side of his face. He took her chin between his thick fingers and lifted her face to his. A leer spread across his face and a pink, slug like tongue ran over his lips. Lily tried to get away, to get up and go to her sister-- but her muscles were jelly and he held on tight.

He lifted his wand again, pressing the tip into her sternum, where the point of her dress’s v-neck was.

He leaned closer, pressing his lips to her ear.

“ _Crucio_.”

There was agony. Then blackness.

~~~

She came to slowly. Her head was fogged and a dull, penetrating ache radiated from her temples. A sharp pain accompanied each breath. With bleary eyes she took in the scene laid out before her.

Overturned pews and smashed vases of flowers. A smashed stained glass window. Men and women in black robes, masks discarded next to them on the floor. On the floor, the glassy eyed priest, his mouth agape in a silent scream.

She was on her knees, being held by the boulder headed man. He had her wrists in a vice like grip, his other hand firm on her shoulder. Over on a nearby table, her wand lay discarded. She strained against her captor but he just gripped her tighter.

What she saw next chilled Lily to the bone. Her family were being held at wand point on the church’s altar by dark-haired men. Her parents hugged each other and Petunia whimpered at every small movement the men made.

“Aaah, you’re awake,” purred a voice from behind her. The tap of hard heeled shoes came up the aisle. “I was beginning to think dear Alecto had been too enthusiastic with his charms.”

The speaker came to a stop before her. She recognised him. How could she not? Hadn't she just been obsessing over the news of his wedding to Narcissa? Lucius Malfoy was before her in all his glory. He wore pitch black robes embellished with silver embroidery and his long white-blonde hair was slicked back, hanging down his back like a shimmering veil. A shiny, silver wedding band gleamed on his left hand. 

“Now then, how shall we proceed?” he mused, stroking one long finger over his pointed chin.

“Let them go,” Lily begged, her voice cracking. “Please, just take me. Do what you want with me but let them go.”

A low chuckle was her reply. He began to pace back and forth between Lily and her family, looking between the two sets of captives. His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed as he considered what to do.

“Please don’t do this,” Lily said. “Just let them go.”

What else could she do but beg?

“Hmm, I think you might have won me over, Miss Evans,” he said it so softly that she thought she misheard him. “Let the parents go.” 

Relief flooded her. Despite all the pain her head was clear now. If her parents went free then maybe, just maybe she could get Tuney out of danger too. Her eyes flickered over to her wand. It wasn’t far. She shifted. The boulder headed man’s grip had loosened ever so slightly in his eagerness to see what Lucius would do.

“Yaxley, Dolohov. Release them,” said Lucius with a lazy wave of his hand, not bothering to address them fully. He kept his focus on Lily, a slow, twisted smile spreading across his angular features.

The two men moved away from her parents. Their wands lowered and they bowed low, sweeping their arms to indicate they were free. Eyes wide and with stumbling feet, they stood. Lily strained to go to them but her captor held firm. Her father held her mother and they started to move away. Their eyes flickered to Lily. Fear was carved into every inch of their faces, from the way their eyebrows knitted together to the tight purse of their lips.

“I love you,” Lily mouthed to them. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth wobbled.

“How sweet,” Lucius quipped, watching as Hyacinth and Trevor Evans scurried up the aisle towards the church’s door. “Kill them.”

A terrible green light flooded her vision. Lily screamed. Two thumps resonated through the church. Petunia screamed. Voices raised as one, their cries were amplified tenfold by the high domed ceiling.

White spots danced across her eyes. Tears flowed freely. She crumpled inside and out.

On the altar Petunia keened. Her white linen dress was creased, smeared with dirt and dust, and her blonde hair was coming undone from its chignon. At her back, the cross hung crooked. She was an angel in defeat.

“Oh, come now, Miss Evans. Did you really think mummy and daddy dearest were going anywhere?” chuckled Lucius. He approached her and lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “Nobody is leaving here alive.”

His tone was light and airy, as if discussing the weather.

In that moment, Lily’s grief hardened and crystallised into white hot anger.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “Fuck the lot of you. You won’t get away with this.”

“But we have, and it’s so  _ easy _ these days. These muggles, they’re so . . .  _ primitive _ . They’re so concerned with what’s  _ up there _ they don’t see what’s right here in front of them.” He shrugged. “But then, some wizards are the same, wouldn’t you agree?”

Malfoy turned from her now to her sister. Petunia’s eyes were glazed, streaming unending tears, and her mouth slack. At his approach, she wrenched her gaze away from their parents’ prone bodies. It was as if she had been transported back to girlhood. Gone were the hard lines of her face. Like curtains parting, Lily saw her sister as she once was: wide eyed, curious, and innocent; before Hogwarts, before magic.

“Now, what shall we do with you, my dear? Shall we show Lily darling what happens when people like her take what isn’t theirs?” His voice was soft and persuasive. He spoke as if to a close confidant. Withdrawing his wand from his robe sleeve, he turned it on Petunia. “What do you think, Miss Evans? Shall we have a quick show and tell?”

“No —"

“ _Crucio_.”

Petunia writhed, body contorting viciously. Shrieks of terror and pain ripped from her mouth. And Lily was sure she heard her heart breaking over it all. Adrenaline pulsed through her. Her mind raced. She had to stop this. But how?

“PETUNIA!” Lily bellowed.

A terrible feeling of panic rose in her chest. Her breaths came in a rush.

“ _ Cru-ci-o _ .”

Petunia’s eyes were rolling in her head. The spasms became more violent. She was like a rag doll tossed into a broiling sea.

Lucius lifted his wand and smiled. Tuney stilled, panting.

“There now. How was that? But a taste, a mere amuse bouche,” he savoured each word, lingering over it as if it was some delectable aged wine.

He turned the cruciatus curse on her sister again and again. And Lily was helpless to stop him. She strained against the boulder headed man, Alecto, but he held her tight, crushing her knees into the floor. Petunia’s shrieks rang in her ears. They shook her to her core.

How long did they go around and round in this never-ending cycle of pain? She didn’t know.

“Bring her.”

Alecto shoved her to her feet, bringing her closer to the altar. And closer to her wand. It was within grasping distance.

“I want you to see this,” Lucius said, coming up so close to her that she could smell the mint on his breath and look into the depths of his icy blue eyes.

He crouched close to her, so that their faces were level.

Wand lifted and aimed, there was silence. There seemed to be a collective intake of breath. Yaxley and Dolohov leaned forward, leering with bright eyes. Behind her, she could feel the shiver of anticipation from Alecto.

Lily vibrated. Heat filled her and the adrenaline flowed. Rage burned and fear poisoned.

A smile as cruel as a knife edge played on the corners of Lucius’ face.

“ _Sectumsempra_.”

“NO! Petunia!”

Red flowers bloomed across Petunia’s stomach and chest. Her breath caught in her throat and she went limp. The beautiful white dress she had picked out that morning turned red. Blood seeped out beneath her, a dark, glimmering pool.

A hiss ran around the group. Lily could feel the pleasure rolling off them in hideous waves. Alecto’s breath was hot in her ear. Lucius leaned forward, relishing his victory. He turned to her. His eyes were shining like supernovas in his pale face and two pink spots had appeared high on his cheeks.

Something cracked.

_ SMACK! _

Stars erupted across her vision as her forehead connected with Malfoy’s nose. He staggered, slipped, fell. Shock rippled through the other men. Alecto jumped to help but in doing so released her. Hands free, Lily dove for her wand. They were slower than her. Confused and dazed from her wandless attack, they tried to assemble themselves.

“ _Stupify_!” She hit Yaxley in the chest. He crumpled like a house of cards.

“ _Flipendo_!” Dolohov flew across the altar. His limp body crashed against the back wall.

Three, four, five bounds and she was next to her sister. Blood was pooling around her body. Petunia’s breathing was ragged. Her eyes were unfocussed, rolling in their sockets.

“No, Petunia, no, no, no.” Her words ran together, a restless whisper.

Her blood was cloying, thick and warm against Lily’s skin.

A roar.

Lucius and Alecto had recovered. Two streams of bright, red blood poured from the blonde man’s nose. Fire flared in his eyes. He bared his teeth.

Lily’s breath hitched. Two wands raised. Lights flashed. Throwing herself over Petunia’s body, she disapparated.

Iron and pine needles. Wheezing and the sweet chirrup of birds. A dense forest. A shooting pain across her left shoulder.

“Petunia! My god, no. Oh please, god no.”

She didn’t know where to focus. There was so much blood. Her hands and arms were slick. The pale linen of their dresses had turned deep red. She had to stop the bleeding or at least slow it. Petunia’s skin was turning grey.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Forgive me.  _ Ustulio _ .” Lily’s voice trembled as she turned her wand on the wounds.

If she could just cauterise them. Tears mixed with blood. The smell of cooking meat rose up to meet her.

That would have to do. Hoisting Petunia up, her head lolling, Lily stood. With an echoing crack, she disapparated again.

They apparated to a front lawn in front of a higgledy-piggledy house with a round purple door that had once been a three-bedroom semi. She lurched forward, Petunia sagging by her side. Blood still oozed from the cuts.

“Caradoc! CARADOC!” Lily screeched, panic tearing at her voice. “ _ CARADOC _ ! Help!”

She tried to rush forward to the door but her legs gave way beneath her. Her chest heaved, sobs choking her.

“Caradoc!” she cried again, voice cracking, giving way to terror filled tears.

With a bang, the front door burst open and Caradoc Dearborn exploded onto the front lawn. His wiry grey hair was mussed, sticking up in all directions and he only had one arm in his beige cardigan. The rest trailed behind him like knitted tentacles.

“Help her. They cut her, the spell, I’ve never seen anything like it before,” she babbled. “I tried to stop the bleeding, Caradoc, I tried – but it won’t stop.  _ It won’t stop _ .”

His eyes were wild, scanning the two girls, taking everything in. She could see the frantic working of his healer’s mind. With firm hands, he extracted Petunia from her trembling grasp and scooped her up as easily as if she were nothing but a feather filled pillow. He crouched and offered his arm.

“Come on inside now. We’ll get your sister patched up in no time,” he said. If he was worried, he showed no trace of it. His face was clear and calm, eyes wide and lips pressed together.

Lily took his arm, stumbling to her feet. Her body felt heavy and she ached all over. But she didn’t care. Every single cell of her being burned with concern for Petunia. Her sister lolled in Caradoc’s arms and her breath rattled in her throat. Panic choked her and her heartbeat thrummed in her ears.

The healer led them through the house to a back room that was set up as a medical bay. All manner of books and tools lined the walls and a surgery table sat in the middle of the room. The older man placed Petunia on the cold steel. His touch was gentle and deliberate.

“Miss Evans, I think it might be best if you wait in the living room. I don’t know how long I’ll be.” His tone was kind but firm. He clasped her hand, blood already staining his papery skin.

Lily nodded in a daze and left him. The last thing she saw before Caradoc shut the door was Petunia. She looked so small, like a broken baby bird.

~~~

_ Dearest Tuney, _

_ Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. _

_ I’m sorry. This is all my fault. My stupid fault. _

_ Please don’t die. Please. _

Caradoc Dearborn’s front room was pokey but warm,welcoming with its eclectic mix of magic and muggle artefacts. A singing teapot and dancing teacups were crowded next to a gramophone. His walls were plastered with framed photos. He had a large family and an even larger circle of friends. Sitting pride of place on his mantle was a picture of him and James at what looked like James’ 10 th birthday party. James was giggling, party hat askew and Caradoc was pretending to blow out the birthday candles on his cake.

Lily had collapsed onto the overstuffed couch. There was nothing she could do but wait until Caradoc had done what he could to heal her sister of those awful cuts. She held her head in her hands, trying to keep her breathing steady but it was an exercise in futility. It remained ragged, shallow and painful.

Mind racing, she offered up prayers, to whom, she didn’t really know. Anyone who happened to be listening, she supposed. The guilt tore at her, like a serrated knife through flesh. This was her fault. They came because of her.  _ His _ followers had come for her and her family.

Then, a slow dawning of realisation spread through her.

Her parents.

Both her parents.

Dead.

Killed.

Murdered.

A hole opened up in her chest. It was a ragged, burning maw filled with poison. She choked on her tears, the lump in her throat growing bigger.

_ My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. _

Her thoughts were stuck in a hideous loop. She couldn’t breathe. She hurt. She craved sleep, the darkness of a boundless void.

Crack.

A tall, tousle-haired figure apparated into the sitting room.

“James!” Lily launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

The moment their bodies collided, she broke like a wave against a rock. The words coming from her mouth were all a panicked, shrieking jumble, spat out between heaving sobs. She didn’t even know what she was saying, if she made sense. Her body sagged against his. She shook. She cried. She was some primal, animalistic being. Was she even human anymore?

Beneath the white shirt he wore, she could feel James’ heart thrashing against her cheek but he stood as strong and as still as an oak. He gripped her, crushed her, against him. She relished the feeling.

It took her several moments to calm down enough to look up at the boy she now considered one of her closest friends. Behind tortoiseshell glasses, his hazel eyes were ablaze. A deep gash cut through his left eyebrow and a deep blue bruise was blooming across his right eye.

“Merlin’s beard, Lily,” he gasped, finally catching sight of her. He grasped her by the shoulders, eyes flashing up and down before resting on her face. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s not mine,” she whispered.

She was covered head to toe in her sister’s blood. It caked her hands and arms, and clumped in her hair. Her pretty floral dress was no longer yellow. In some places it had dried to a rust coloured brown, in others it was still damp and dark, sticking to her skin. It was everywhere. The smell of iron, dirt and dust mingled together, heavy and thick in her nose.

Thick brows furrowed, James glanced back towards Caradoc’s surgery room. He seemed to be weighing up his options.

“Let’s get cleaned up. We can’t wear these clothes,” he said, motioning between them. Petunia’s blood was smeared across his T-shirt.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Lily in a monotone. All her energy was gone, sapped from her body by the day’s events.

She didn’t feel all there. It was like she was watching everything from behind a veil or screen. While James curled one strong arm around her waist and propelled her up the stairs to the bathroom, she seemed to watch this all unfold from some detached perspective about three feet above and behind her body.

Caradoc’s bathroom was a shock of avocado green accented with pink. The whole suite, the tiles and floor were all the same shade of green. A fluffy, pastel pink cover adorned the toilet lid and there were matching mats at its base and next to the bath.

James guided her to the toilet and had her sit. She obeyed. His touch was gentle but not hesitant. As if carved from marble, she sat completely still and just as unseeing. The two said nothing and James busied himself running the taps of the bath and sink, and gathering towels and washcloths. Once full, he turned the taps off, dampened a few of the clothes and knelt in front of her.

In one warm, strong hand he cradled her arm. With the other he used the washcloth to wipe away the blood encrusted across her skin. Each motion was slow, deliberate and oh so gentle. He didn’t tug or scrape, just wiped, rinsed and repeated, wiped, rinsed and repeated. Eyebrows furrowed, he worked methodically and with purpose. He began at her shoulders and worked right down to her finger tips.

Blood was caked under her nails in thick, black crescent moons. James took a nail brush and loaded it with soap. He held her with tender, broom calloused hands and scrubbed away the grime with as much care as he could muster. Lily didn’t fight him. She just let it all happen, watching the way her skin reappeared from underneath the rusty blood.

The water in the sink turned from clear, to pink, to red with each rinse of the washcloth. James turned to her face now, pushing her matted hair away from her eyes. The damp cloth drifted across her forehead; its warmth began to lift the veil that had settled over her mind. She roused and found the hazel of James’ eyes. A beam of sunlight fell through the window and onto his face, it set the gold in his eyes alight. And he looked really rather beautiful.

“Lily, time to get out of these clothes,” he said softly, tugging on the collar of her soiled dress. His voice was husky and earnest. “You need something clean to wear. Give me a sec, I’ll find something.”

He traced a knuckle down her check, squeezed both her shoulders, and stood. While he left to find her something to wear, Lily stood and slowly began to undress. The pain in her shoulder had returned and her ribs stung with every shallow breath. Her fingers fumbled over the buttons of her dress. When enough were undone, she pushed it off her shoulders and it pooled at her feet – which she noticed were bare. Had James removed her shoes? Had she lost them in the confusion? She didn’t know, nor did she care all that much.

For just a moment, she risked a glance in the mirror above the sink. Flecks of blood still marred her tear streaked cheeks and her eyes looked hollow. Her hair was tangled and matted.

“Merlin’s beard.”

She caught James’ eye in the mirror and she turned to see him drop the bundle of clothing at his feet. He was aghast, rushing forward to meet her.

“You’re hurt,” he accused, his voice strained.

A hand hovered over the blackened bruise that covered most of her side. The other was at her shoulder. She cast a glance back towards the mirror and saw a deep, fleshy wound in the shape of a Catherine wheel; apparently, she had spliced her shoulder when she disapparated.

“Why didn’t you say?”

“It didn’t matter, Tuney was hurt. I had to get her safe.”

“Okay, I’m no healer, but I can set bones. Agrippa knows I’ve done it enough times. Do you mind?” She shook her head mutely. “Okay, hold still.”

Wand drawn from the back pocket of his jeans, he ran his left hand down the bruise. His touch was feather light but when he drifted over the spot where Alecto’s boot had connected, she flinched, sucking air in through her teeth. That was where he placed the tip of his wand.

“ _ Integro _ .”

A sharp pop and Lily felt her bone move back into place. Relief was instant. She hadn’t realised the extent to which it had restricted her breathing. Taking a long, deep breath, she tried to smile in thanks but James wasn’t looking at her; he was examining her shoulder. Then, he reached around her and flicked open the mirror to reveal a medicine cabinet. Deftly, the boy plucked a small brown bottle from a shelf and flicked the door shut again.

“Essence of dittany,” he said by way of explanation. “Will you turn?”

She did as she was told. James brushed her hair aside and applied the tincture. It stung as if on fire and noxious fumes rose up from where every drop hit. Where her skin knitted together there was an intense itching sensation. She shivered and rolled her shoulder. The pain had lessened to a dull ache.

“You’ll want Caradoc to check you over just to make sure but, you should be okay now. The bath is still warm. I can leave if you want to wash your hair, or soak,” he said, turning as if to leave.

“No,” Lily replied, catching his wrist. “Stay. Please? I – I don’t want to be alone.”

James held her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable but he nodded. Lily stripped the last of her clothing off and slid into the bath. Its warmth was a comfort. She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them close, resting her cheek on her forearms. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Next to her, James sank to the floor, rested his arm on the tub’s edge and swirled his long fingers through the water.

They sat in silence for a long time, but it was neither tense nor strained. It was as calm and reflective as a glassy lake on a still day. Pink tendrils crept out from her body like fine threads. Eventually, she uncurled herself and reached for the shampoo.

Pain shot through her shoulder. She grasped at it, hissing.

“Lily?” James’ voice was a balm.

“Will you – will you help me?” she asked, eyes closed as she waited for the pain to abate.

She was curled in on herself, head bowed, hand gipping at her throbbing shoulder.

“Of course,” he murmured.

Outside of hairdressers and her mother when she was a child, she had never had someone else wash her hair. James’ touch was firm, even a little too firm in places, but he tried not to catch his fingers in her tangled mane. In fact, he even tried to unpick the knots as best he could. With cupped hands, he poured water over her hair. Foam slid down her back and pooled atop the pink bath water. He repeated the process and when he was done, he laid a hand on her bad shoulder, his calloused fingers rough against raw, pink skin.

“Would you like a towel?” She nodded.

James pulled a towel from the radiator, helped Lily to stand and draped the towel around her. Holding his hand, Lily clambered from the bath, dripping. He turned from her then and scooped up the clothes he’d so hastily discarded earlier. Turning back to her, she noticed there was an ever so slight flush to James’ cheeks now and that he ducked his head.

“These are, uh, my clothes. I keep some here for when I stay with my uncle. They might be a bit big, but . . .” he trailed off and proffered her the pile with a small, soft smile.

“Thank you, James,” she said in an undertone, taking the clothes.

A pause.

“I’ll leave you to change. Unless you need help? No? Okay, I’ll just be down the hall.”

The boy dithered on the spot for just a second. Was there more he wished to say, Lily wondered. But no words came. There was only a rapidly shifting gaze that, when stilled upon her own, softened and a shy smile curled the corners of his mouth. Then, he was gone, slipping from the bathroom.

Lily examined the clothes: grey jersey jogging bottoms, a white T-shirt, and a pair of blue chequered boxer shorts. They smelt of him, of fresh laundry and the faint hint of the amber broom polish he favoured so much. With some degree of difficulty, she dried herself off and pulled on James’ clothes. He had been right; they were far too big, but they were dry and warm. And perhaps most importantly, not covered in Petunia’s blood. She rolled up the jogging bottoms’ cuffs and wrapped a clean towel around her head.

Now that she was clean, Lily felt much more like herself. She was no longer floating up behind her body but firmly lodged within it. A deep tremor still ran through her, an earthquake at her very core, but she was no longer paralysed. Indeed, she was suddenly aware of how tired she was. It resonated from the marrow of her bones. Her body ached and cried out for sleep but thoughts of Petunia’s broken form came unbidden to her mind.

As she padded out into the hallway, she was able to take in more of Caradoc’s house. When she had been here on other occasions, Lily had kept to the lower floor, never venturing upstairs. The overwhelming colour palette present in the hall was orange. Orange floral wallpaper covered the walls and the carpet was covered in bold orange and brown geometric designs. It was quite the assault on the eyes.

Every spare bit of wall space was covered in pictures. Hundreds of pairs of eyes looked out at her. Some were of Caradoc, others of his friends and family. One in particular caught her eye. It was a black and white snap of  a little boy with a cheeky grin and a mess of curly black hair sticking out from underneath a sun hat . He had his parents on either side of him, kissing his cheeks, their faces all scrunched up and trying not to laugh. In the background there were gulls swooping in and out of frame and waves rolling up the sandy beach they were on. As if noticing they had a spectator, James and his parents broke apart and waved.

She smiled and continued on her way. It was strange to think of James as a child. Even when they were in first year, he had seemed so grown up. But, she realised that was just because of his brash confidence and the fact that Lily didn’t know as much about the wizarding world.

At the end of the corridor, a door lay open. Just inside was James. He was stripped bare to the waist, having discarded his blood smeared T-shirt and was now wearing the same kind of grey jersey jogging bottoms he had given her. Twisting this way and that, he appeared to be examining himself in a long mirror, checking for injuries, she presumed.

Not wanting to be caught staring, Lily announced her presence with a discreet cough. It was enough. James’ head whipped round, finding her eyes immediately.

“Hey,” she breathed, hugging herself and shifting from foot to foot.

“Hey. How’re you feeling?” he asked.

Lily averted her eyes from the rippling muscles across his back and shoulders as he turned from her to pull on a clean shirt.

“I’m, uh, I’m . . . well, I’ve been better.” The words choked her and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. “Do you know – how’s my sister? Is Tuney--? Is she a—is she okay?”

“Yes, Lily. She’s fine. Caradoc healed her injuries and gave her a Calming Draft. She’s sleeping now. You can see her later if you like? When she’s awake.”

“Oh, thank God,” she whispered. Petunia would live. She was alive, safe and well. The pressure inside her dissolved and she deflated.

When she looked back up to the boy, he was looking at her with a fierce, furrow browed look on his face. It was his most serious expression. His face was normally so clear and open that to see him so perturbed was like the sudden appearance of storm clouds where there had once been only sunshine and blue skies.

“Do you want to come in and sit down?” he asked, gesturing behind him and rocking back on his heels ever so slightly.

“Sure.”

Lily crossed the threshold to the room to see that it was, in fact, James’ bedroom. There was no denying it. Posters for the Harrow Harriers quidditch team plastered the walls and a huge Gryffindor banner hung next to the single bed. Pictures of the Marauders were tacked up on the walls and scattered across his bedside table: him with his arms slung around Sirius’ shoulders, Remus laughing and flipping off the camera, Sirius with Peter in a headlock. There were other pictures too. Ones of Dorcas, of Mary, of Marlene. And then, on top of all the other pictures on his bedside table was one of Lily.

She remembered the day it was taken. They were all by the lake. Sirius had snaffled food from the kitchens again and had demanded a picnic. They all went down to the lake and spread the blanket underneath the weeping willow that dipped its fronds into the water. James had had a camera with him that day, had insisted he wanted to capture as many memories as he could. Sirius had been chasing after Remus, yelling about the Giant Squid, and she’d been laughing at their antics when he’d snapped her picture.

“James?” Tearing her eyes away from the pictures, she looked up at the boy by her side.

“Yes?”

And without stopping to think about it, she reached up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his. They were warm and soft but chapped near the corners. She could smell the faintest whiff of amber from him.

When she drew back, his mouth was a small ‘o’ shape and his eyes were wide.That was the first time she had kissed him.

“What was that for?” The words caught in his throat.

“Just a thank you,” she said, touching his arm. And it was the truth.

They shared a smile. Their eyes met like dragonflies on water, darting together for a second before flitting away again.

“So, what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to the bruises and the gash in James' eyebrow. 

" Death Eaters," he grumbled by way of an answer.

"They attacked Diagon Alley," he added when she sent a questioning look his way. "I was there with Pads and Wormtail when they descended. We got away but not before they got a few good hits in." 

Lily nodded along but she felt uneasy. 

"Caradoc thinks today was an organised, coordinated attack, to hit as many people as possible," James continued. He glanced at her, lips pursed. “This is their first big, public move. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“Me neither,” Lily sighed and she moved to sit on the bed, letting her head fall back against the headboard.

“We’ll get through it. All of us, one way or another.” James settled beside her. He sounded determined but a splinter of doubt undermined him.

The moment she had sat down all of Lily’s remaining energy had been sapped away, drained into the mattress. James continued talking but his voice sounded far away. She dangled on the knife edge of sleep. Eyes drooping, Lily tried to continue the conversation but her words slurred together into incomprehensible sludge. It did not take long for her to slip into blissful darkness.

~~~

She woke curled around James, leg hooked around his and one arm flung across his chest. He was still asleep, sitting almost upright, his head supported by the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her waist. A tiny frown furrowed his brows. Sleep fogged Lily’s brain and for a moment she couldn’t remember how she’d got here or why. But that soon changed.

Her stomach dropped. She felt like she wanted to vomit. 

Petunia. Her parents. Lily closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. 

It was still dark outside but it looked as though the first rays of the new day were starting to light the sky. With as much care as she could muster, she extracted herself from James’ embrace. He snuffled in his sleep and rolled over but didn’t wake. As she padded down the hall, Caradoc’s house sighed, pipes rattling in the walls. Shadows twisted out of the corners of her eyes and Lily felt jumpy, like they were going to reach out and grab her.

There was no sign of Caradoc downstairs. He must be asleep. Lily made her way towards the examination room at the back of the house. There, she found Petunia.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said in a monotone when Lily appeared in her doorway. 

She was pale, grey even in this low light. Her lips were chapped and colourless and she wore a hospital gown that was three sizes too big. Still, Lily could see the bandages covering her chest. The bed swamped her. 

“How are you feeling?”

“How do you think?”

Lily flinched. The question was acid. 

“Are you in pain?”

“No. Your wizard medic saw to that.”

They settled into a tense, prickly silence filled with long glances and unsaid words. Lily shuffled her feet and tried to find the right thing to say but nothing came. What could she say? There would be no forgiveness here. 

“I can make it go away,” she said eventually. “You don’t have to remember any of this.”

“You will do no such thing,” Petunia hissed, face contorting with barely contained disgust. “You think that if you wipe my memory you’ll get some kind of absolution? This is your fault and I will make sure you know that for the rest of your sorry life.”

“Tuney . . .” Lily’s voice cracked and tears sprang to her eyes. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“Our parents are gone because of you. What you want is irrelevant,” she snapped. Her hands balled up on the sheets, shaking. “After this wedding, do not come anywhere near me or my family. Do you hear? After today, I have no sister.”

Lily’s breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. Her tears left hot tracks down her cheeks.

“We tell people it was a car accident. We go ahead, as planned, then afterwards I never want to see you darken my door again.” Petunia was measured and controlled and her chin jutted sharply towards Lily like she was daring her to defy her.

“As you wish.” A sob bubbled up within her chest but she suppressed it. “You should sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

It was only in the privacy of darkness that Lily let the sob come. She shook with the force of them, but try as she might, she couldn’t silence them. With one hand covering her mouth, she dashed back up stairs, one arm curled protectively around her torso. 

When she reached James’ bedroom, she found him rising from the depths of sleep. 

“Lily? Is everything okay?” he asked, eyes widening as he saw the tears flowing freely down her cheeks and soaking the front of her t-shirt. 

“No,” she said lamely. She wanted to curl even further into herself, to get lost in the darkness. “I don’t think anything will ever be okay again.”

Her voice broke and with it the last reserves of strength she had. Ugly, throat shredding sobs cut through her.

“Come here.” James drew her onto his lap. His voice was husky, a warm comfort that slipped through the prickly thorns of her upset. 

She went willingly, little more than a puppet in his hands. He held her close, one hand firm on her thigh, the other stroking through her hair. She curled in, head resting in the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Under her cheek, she could feel his heartbeat, steady and true, and the gentle rhythm of his breathing rocked her. 

In time, the tears dried up, leaving behind a sniffly nose and a violent set of hiccoughs. James shushed her, caressed her back, and peppered the top of her head with kisses. In return, she held on for dear life, feeling like the weight of the day, of her emotions, would drag her down to the depths. If she gave in, she would drown in seconds. 

Lily nuzzled James’ neck just to feel closer to him. It was reckless. She knew how he felt about her but in that moment she needed to feel--what? Real? Alive? It didn’t matter. She’d settle for anything that wasn’t this washed up rag of a human. When she pressed her lips to the exposed skin of his throat, she felt him stiffen around her and his hand stilled on her back.

“Lily . . .” Her name was a soft warning in his mouth, not yet a reproach, but she couldn’t stop. 

She kissed and nosed her way up to his jaw. James was still under her touch but there was a heat to his skin that wasn’t there before. His breath caught and Lily could see his eyes flutter shut as she shifted in his lap. 

“You don’t want to do this,” he whispered, meeting her gaze. His eyes gleamed in the low light as he searched her face. “Not really, not with me, not tonight.”

“Don’t I?” There was more bite in her voice than she expected. And yet, she feared she might cry again if he really was to say no.

James opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it and closed it again. He still held her but he was leaning away and chewing his bottom lip, barely able to look at her.

"Please, James," she pleaded, fingers fisting into his shirt. Her eyebrows tugged together and her bottom lip quivered. 

Closing his eyes again, James took several long breaths. There seemed to be some great internal debate going on inside his mind. He swallowed, wet his lips, and when he finally opened his eyes again, he had a hungry, insatiable look that sent a shiver down Lily’s spine.

There was a beat where neither said anything. They were so close that Lily could see the spidery shadows cast by his lashes across his cheeks. James’ hand flexed on her thigh. She shifted at the touch, closer. Her heart thrummed in her ears, her whole body pulsed. At that moment, she felt like a rubber band stretched to breaking point.

Then, James’ mouth was on hers, hot, fierce, and insistent. She snapped. Throwing herself into the embrace, their kiss was sloppy, all teeth and hands but Lily didn’t care. She pulled at him, trying to press ever closer, trying to force as much contact as possible. With a graceless grunt, she swung herself around until she was straddling his hips, her lips never leaving his. The feel of his hands was electric; they didn’t stop moving - her back, her hair, her hips. She moved into his touch, delighting in it. 

This was what she needed, she told herself. To forget this hideous day. It was the only way not to hear her sister’s screams, feel the slick pulse of blood beneath her fingers, smell the incense, and see the cruel turn of Lucius Malfoy’s mouth as he ordered her parents’ execution. Because if she faltered for even a moment, they would overwhelm her. So, she clung to James, pushed further into him, clawed desperately at his skin so that he would overrun all her senses and push everything else aside. 

He was just as desperate. Whatever he had seen today had been too much. Everything had been too much. Too raw and too intense to make any sense of any time soon. They were too young to be soldiers, but whether it was fate, destiny, or sheer bad luck, that was going to be their lot in life. The writing had been on the wall for years and there was no escaping it now. 

If they were to begin this fight then why shouldn’t she take this? The prospect of war had been hanging like a black cloud over her youth, threatening to cut it short at a moment’s notice. Well, she wouldn’t let it. Not tonight anyway.

So, instead of fixating, Lily let herself come undone. 

These were worries for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting unfinished in my writing folder for the longest time and I've finally managed to finish it! Huzzah! 
> 
> A huge thank you to [@arimendoza](https://arimendoza.tumblr.com/)/ [aaronminyxrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronminyxrd/pseuds/aaronminyxrd) for being my beta and generally being the most delightful human. <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Come and find me @martelldoran on tumblr!


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